


In Which Grantaire's Little Sister Unknowingly Plays Matchmaker

by CautionaryTales



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Boys Kissing, Fluff, Kissing, M/M, Self-indulgent fluff, this will rot your teeth
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-26
Updated: 2014-05-26
Packaged: 2018-01-26 13:56:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,692
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1690709
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CautionaryTales/pseuds/CautionaryTales
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Grantaire's little sister notices that he has been drawing Enjolras a lot lately and has also been in a mopey mood.  She puts two and two together and decides to make it Enjolras' problem.  Papers fly and kissing ensues.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In Which Grantaire's Little Sister Unknowingly Plays Matchmaker

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this for theservantemrys a while ago because they made a post asking for a fic in their inbox. After cleaning it up a bit, and adding some explanations in, this is what resulted.

Enjolras feels a little tug on his sleeve and turns away from the mountain of paperwork in front of him.  The weekly meeting with Les Amis just finished and he’s running through statistics one more time; a favour for Combeferre.  The man has two major reports due in the upcoming week, while Enjolras only has to worry about notes for lectures right now.  It’s the least he could do to help his best friend.

Enjolras straightens the mess in front of him somewhat before turning.  A smile works its way onto his face, stretching smoothly across, meeting dimples that press inwards near the bottom of his cheeks.  Two large blue eyes blink up at him, framed by a mass of black hair.

“Matthieu?” The little girl standing beside of Enjorlas asks, sounding timid, yet firm.  When he twists around to look at her, she glances side to side and waves him forward conspiratorially.

Enjolras shakes his head, amused by the action, but leans toward Grantaire’s younger sister, Aurelie, anyway.  “Mmm?”

“Cameron looks sad,” eyes flicking over to where Grantaire is curled up in his regular seat, Enjolras does have to admit, Aurelie is right, “you should talk to him.”

“I appreciate your concern, but that probably isn’t a good idea.”  Enjolras pats the little girl’s curls and moves to return to his work.

“No, you don’t understand,” she says, a firm tone in her voice and a scowl on her face, pulling on his shirt again more insistently.  “He’s been acting really weird since you guys argued last week.  More than normal anyway.  And he’s started drawing you again, too; he’s always sad when he draws you.  So this is your fault.”

Aurelie’s bottom lip sticks forward slightly, the pout on her face enough to make Enjolras waver, but this is none of his business.  Grantaire draws his friends all the time, he explained once that it is great practice for him.  Correlation does not equal causation, and Enjolras really can’t control it if Grantaire has fallen into a melancholy mood and decided to focus on him as the subject of the week.  It’s unfortunate that the man is upset, but it really isn’t Enjolras’ responsibility to pester Grantaire until he surfaces from this slump.  Not that he doesn’t care; there’s just a lot of work to be done and time is scarce.

Enjolras thinks that the discussion is over when he replies with a sound retort that seems to work on most children: “Your logic is flawed.”  But apparently it is not that easy to reason with this particular seven year-old.  He really shouldn’t be surprised, the girl is Grantaire’s sister after all; the stubbornness must be hereditary.

“You sound like ‘Ferre, he is always talking about logic and reasoning and stuff like that.  I like him better, though,” Aurelie fixes Enjolras with a glare.  “He gives me sweets and lets me play with his glasses.  I would like you more if you cheered Cameron up.”

The little girl finishes the statement by raising her brow expectantly, another similarity that she shares with her sibling.  She ignores Courfeyrac who is doing a spectacularly awful job of disguising his laughter at her comments.

Still staring at Enjolras, waiting for a verdict, the girl beams as Enjolras acquiesces, heaving himself out of his chair.  It will be easier to do what Aurelie wants, despite how futile his actions may be, than sit and quarrel with her.  The faster he gets this over with, the sooner he’ll be able to get back to his work.

Aurelie looks extremely pleased with herself as she leads the way back to her brother’s table, bouncing and skipping in between the maze of tables and chairs.  When she reaches Grantaire, she stands up on her tip-toes and plants a kiss on his cheek.  He looks up from his sketchbook and smiles gently at her, smoothing the frizz on the top of her head.  Aurelie wanders toward the chair that she had previously been occupying as he nudges her playfully in that direction.  Selecting a few stray crayons from the table, she begins to scribble on a piece of torn sketchbook paper.  Enjolras does not miss the pointed looks she is shooting his way each time she grabs another colour.

The siblings have always been close and the effortless affection between them never fails to put a smile on Enjolras’ face.  Grantaire is incredibly protective of Aurelie and doesn’t like the idea of anyone but him looking after her.  The only time he ever hires babysitters is when he absolutely has to; times when he has shifts at the bar he works at, and Eponine isn’t available.  During the past few weeks he hasn’t had to worry about this, though.  About a month ago, Grantaire brought his little sister to a meeting and Les Amis fell in love with her instantly.  Since then, Courfeyrac, Jehan, Bahorel, and Joly have constantly been asking Grantaire if he needs anyone to look after the little girl.  Because everyone took such a liking to Aurelie, her older brother hasn’t hesitated to bring her along to every meeting after that.  She usually sits at the back table with Grantaire and doodles on spare sheets of paper, although, one time Aurelie got ahold of Jehan’s hair, leaving the man with a horrifically tangled attempt at a braid.  Never again.  

Striding over to the table, Enjolras puts a hand down next to Grantaire’s book, leaning against the heavy piece of furniture.  Grantaire was clearly not expecting another visitor, as he jumps and quickly closes his sketchbook in a flurry of papers.

“Enjolras, to what do I owe this pleasure?” He asks, quickly regaining most of his composure, save for a slight quiver to his tone that betrays how uneasy he feels.

“Your sister is concerned about you.”

“She’s always concerned about me.  That doesn’t explain why you decided to visit my little corner of paradise,” Grantaire says, quirking an eyebrow.

“She’s very persuasive.  Wanted me to make sure you’re alright.”

“I’m fine, Aurelie lets her imagination run away from her sometimes.”  Grantaire looks distinctly uncomfortable now, subconsciously sliding his sketchbook away from the other man.

“You dropped something, R,” Aurelie’s voice travels from the other end of the table, a wicked gleam in her eyes.  Grantaire goes white.

Bending down to pick up the stray piece of paper that had fluttered to the ground when the artist had quickly hidden his work, Enjolras frowns.

“Enjolras-”

“Is this me?” he asks, voice scarcely more than a whisper.

“I thought that was obvious.” Grantaire’s response is dry, but there’s an underlying tightness to the words.  He sounds incredibly nervous which is... unusual.  Easy confidence seems to be Grantaire’s natural state, regardless of how put-upon it sometimes is.

Enjolras isn’t quite sure what to do with this, so he blurts the first thing that comes to mind.  “This is beautiful.” Looking up at the artist, Enjolras can’t help but notice the blush that is beginning to spread across the man’s ruddy cheeks.  “Is this really how you see me?”

“Yeah,” Grantaire mumbles.  “There’s a reason I call you Apollo.  And, you know, you do actually look like that.  Beautiful, I mean.  That’s what I was going for, so thanks, I guess.  You know that I’m not one to exaggerate, too.  What kind of realist artist would I be if I couldn’t accurately portray what my subject looks like?  I may be a shi- crappy art student, but I’m definitely not that bad.  I do still get passing grades and-”

“Don’t call me Apollo,” Enjolras cuts in, irritation colouring the edges of his tone.  Grantaire knows how much he hates the nickname and the blonde man knows that it’s a dig at him.

“Of course that’s what you got from that,” Grantaire rolls his eyes as Enjolras narrows his.

“I’ve asked you multiple times not to allude to me as a greater figure than I am.  How can I speak for equality if people believe that I’m talking down to them?”

“Whatever you say, Apollo.”

“I told you not to call me that.”  The words are spoken through clenched teeth, biting down on more vicious words that would surely make the situation worse.

“Make me,” comes the answer, a challenge in the words alone, much less the gravely tone that invades Grantaire’s throat.

Before he can second-guess himself, Enjolras leans forward, careful not to crumple the delicate piece of paper between his fingers.  His lips softly brush Grantaire’s and he regrets the action as soon as the other man tenses beneath him.  Enjolras starts to pull himself back, already preparing an apology in his mind, when Grantaire’s hands press gently into his chest.  But instead of pushing the man away, Grantaire is fisting his hands in his soft t-shirt and pulling Enjolras down, leaning into him.

Enjolras feels a shock of pleasure course through him when Grantaire’s lips seek his again, leaving his head muddled.  They linger in the moment, revelling in the proximity and intimacy of the situation.  There’s a heady feeling hovering between them, even though the kiss is a soft and chaste one; neither of them seem inclined to pursue anything deeper, given the current, very public, situation.

The small, desperate noise that Grantaire makes when Enjolras goes to pull away almost stops him.  He rests their foreheads together, brushing a few black curls that have escaped Grantaire’s bun away from where they tickle his face.  A gentle hand rests on his cheek and Enjolras doesn’t think that he has ever felt so content.  Leaning against each other, the men sit there for a few seconds in silence.

The moment is abruptly interrupted when, at the other side of the table, Aurelie wrinkles her little nose and says, “Ew, that’s gross.”

The men chuckle and Enjolras finally steps away, though he threads his fingers through Grantaire’s and squeezes softly.   Grantaire’s mouth twitches into a grin and he returns the gesture before he raises an eyebrow at his sister.  She merely shrugs in response.

“I guess it’s not so bad though, I mean, you both have boy cooties.”

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed this fun little oneshot. Thanks to lesmisgayrables for betaing, and enjolgay for editing as well as providing encouragement and a name for Grantaire's sister. She used Aurelie in a little ficlet series and the name just stuck.  
> As always, comments and suggestions are always appreciated.  
> Also, I have a headcanon that Combeferre bribed Aurelie to get Enjolras and Grantaire to talk when the sexual tension between his friends started to become ridiculous. Afterward, he ended up owing her the equivalent of an entire candy store because the girl can haggle like no one's business, and Combeferre was more than a little bit desperate.


End file.
